


Far Flung

by Ezlebe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Old West, Breaking Up & Making Up, Jealousy, Lack of Communication, M/M, Misunderstandings, implied period-typical homophobia, references to verbal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 07:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18912106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezlebe/pseuds/Ezlebe
Summary: Ren isn't quite sure he's seeing right, all told, but he’ll take even a hallucination after the lonesomeness of the last three months. “Funny seeing you here.”Hux glances over sharply, lifting a rolled cigarette to his mouth for a long draw. He exhales a beat later, directing the smoke toward Ren’s cell, though there’s not so much as a glimmer in his eyes of amusement that might’ve been there months ago.Ren suffers a pang in his chest and drops his eyes before it might be seen, clumsily pulling his hand from underneath him to clutch at the locket in more habit than real need – Hux is right there, after all.





	Far Flung

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this is not a realistic western by any means, as I largely based it on world-building experiences I had in Red Dead. (If you're a historian or western enthusiast, my apologies.)

Ren wakes slow, finding it too hard to even think for minutes, awareness expanding gradually to itchy straw against his side and the burning under his eyelids. He can feel an ache in the back of his head from something he doesn’t remember, worsened by more familiar hangover suffering, and he only needs to open his eyes a spare second to recognize that smell is accurately suggestive of a jail cell.

Hell, he must’ve had a real bad night. He doesn’t remember a lot of it – he thinks he… wait, _Hux_! He saw Hux in a bar playing cards and… And damn it, everything after catching sight of that ginger hair is a total mystery.

He manages to turn over onto his other side, gritting his teeth against the hurt, and peeks open his eyes a second time to find a safe assumption proven right. He’s not quite sure his sight is being honest, all told, but he’ll take even a hallucination after the lonesomeness of the last three months. “Funny seeing you here.”

Hux glances over sharply, lifting a rolled cigarette to his mouth for a long draw. He exhales a beat later, directing the smoke toward Ren’s cell, though there’s not so much as a glimmer in his eyes of smugness that might’ve been there months ago.

Ren feels something hollow in his chest and drops his eyes before it might be seen, studying the coarse fabric stretched over the bed straw. He clumsily pulls his hand from underneath him to clutch at the locket in more habit than real need – Hux is right there, after all. He even looks more or less the same as he had months ago, if discounting a well-kept goatee that Ren isn’t sure what to make of.

“Alright, boys,” the sheriff says, his voice a shock simply by being present – has he been there all this time? A few feet further back, a deputy sits at another desk, mouth set and close to smirking. “No chatting until the fee been paid.”

Ren blinks up at him, managing to frown mostly by rote.

“Four dollars per,” the sheriff adds, gesturing with a pointed lift of an open-palmed hand.

“Fuck,” Ren mutters, leaning up against a quaking pulse of his head and squeezing at his pockets; he can’t find a penny on him. He had $45 when he left the camp, hadn’t he – did he really lose it all? Did they _take_ it?

“That’s a real pretty locket, there,” the sheriff says, nearing the bars with a pair of heavy steps, wrapping his thumbs into his belt and leaning in with interest. “Platinum, looks like? I bet she won’t mind you using it for collateral if it gets you home.”

“Fuck you,” Ren snarls, tucking it underneath his shirt and clumsily buttoning it in; he can’t trust them not to try and take it off him.

“I’ll pay,” Hux interjects, flicking the butt into Ren’s cell, where it smolders for a pair of seconds before Ren clumsily kicks out and grinds it into the dirt floor. “Both of us for six.”

The sheriff takes a measured breath and leans back on a heel, looking at Hux for a tense pair of moments. He taps the edge of his holster while making a turn toward his desk, then shares some look with the silent deputy that has them jumping up and approaching Hux’s cell.

Ren feels his shoulders sag in relief, shoving up from the straw bed, only to nearly fall again at a wave of vertigo and thumping pain that seems to come from all sides of his skull. He props his shoulder unsteadily against the cell bars, taking a deep breath and managing to stay standing while slowly blinking away stars from his eyes. It’s lucky the deputy makes a point to settle the money with Hux first, otherwise Ren might fall right on top of them.

“Your effects, gentlemen,” the sheriff says, kicking back in his chair with a creak and gesturing at the pile of weapons at the edge of his desk.

Ren steps forward with a grimace, only to be distracted by a pale hand reaching around him to grab one of two pearl-handled revolvers. He watches Hux buckle it in before moving again and reaching for the other, different only by a crack down the facade; he nearly holsters it, then pauses, opening and peering into the cylinder on a hunch.

Empty.

“Huh,” the sheriff says, in a particularly irritating taunt of surprise. “Now where could that have gone?”

Hux keeps weirdly quiet at the revelation – he doesn’t demand recompense or accuse them of warped ethics – he simply reaches out for his derringer, then a dagger, bending down to shove them in corresponding boots. It’s out of character, or it would’ve been, but maybe he finally learned to keep his opinions to himself while on his own.

“Take your sword,” Hux snaps, as he straightens back up, grabbing for his other knife and strapping it to his belt, “Unless you’ve finally entered this century.”

Maybe not.

“Saber,” Ren corrects for the nth time, lifting the weapon and pulling it from the scabbard with a short inspection down the sharpened edge. It seems the sheriff wasn’t stupid enough to try and dull the blade.

“Now,” the sheriff offers an exaggerated sigh, “I’m giving you two an hour to settle your effects here.” He gestures backward with a lazy turn of fingers, likely to encompass his little spot-in-the-road town. “If I see you after that, well… You’ll be losing more than some cash and ammo.”

“Enjoy both,” Hux mutters snidely, crowding Ren toward the door with a shoulder nudge that is borderline winding; it’s only barely a touch, but proof that he’s well and truly solid.

“Hey,” Ren says, sidestepping just as they clear the door and blocking Hux from the only path down the steps, refusing to let him get away. Again. “You agreeable to company?”

Hux’s mouth turns surly and his eyes abruptly fall, staring hard at the middle of Ren’s chest with vexation. His gaze stays there for a pair of seconds, unwavering and practically burning, before he looks back up with a marked grind of his jaw.

Ren glances to his shirt in turn, running his hand down to flatten the buttons, but it’s not even that dirty despite all the drink he had last night. It’s odd as all get out, since what could – the _locket_. Hell, he must have shown his hand last night. He can only imagine how embarrassing he was, probably shoving the locket in Hux’s face and maybe even crying; he wishes he could remember it, try to save some dignity, but it’s probably blessing that he can’t.

“No,” Hux answers belatedly, but he says that every time unless he’s being saucy.

Ren nods slow, then steps aside to let Hux pass with a tip of his head. He follows down the steps, only to wince blearily as they step from under the awning, blinded by the sunshine and realizing time has to be near noon.

He flinches next at an earsplitting whistle to his left, nearly tripping off the porch and into a dried-out rut. He reaches out blindly to balance, sure he’s going to end up with a mouth full of dirt, only to hit solid flesh and turn to find Silon, nosing his elbow and bare-backed next to grey horse that proves to be Fina, come for her master. He stares for a few seconds, then drops his eyes to the ground and down the street in hope, but it predictably bears no explanation.

He still can’t quite remember last night, let alone what he did with his shit, only… Hell, did someone really steal all his effects right off his horse? He reaches out and swipes Silon slightly, who probably just assumes it’s a pat with the way he turns his nose into it.

Ren groans low in his chest, then turns to watch Hux fitting on Fina’s bridle. “Where you going?”

“Does it matter?” Hux says, tightening his cinch and messing about in his saddle bag, head visibly shaking over the back of Fina. He twines reins around the pommel, then grabs it, moving to pull himself up. “Don’t you have morons to look after?”

“Left Phasma to it,” Ren says, patting at Silon’s neck and straightening some of the hair Fina gnawed into a mess.

Hux drops back to the ground with a loud thunk of boots on hard-packed earth. “What?”

“Why’d you think I was here alone?” Ren says, trying to be contemptuous, though his voice doesn’t quite cooperate with him. He wonders how hard the slap would be, if he stumbled over to try for a hug or something.

Hux only continues to stare, and the look in his eyes prompts Ren to seeks the ground. “What happened?”

Ren shrugs, trying to be dismissive, stroking another time along the length of Silon’s neck. He should braid up his mane, wash him down in the river – make Silon look like Black Beauty and not the big, mean stallion Ren stole just because Hux told him he not to do it.

A lot of what he’s done up to now has been like that, working on a push-pull between impressing and irritating Hux. The whole idea of having a crew and robbing big marks, making names… It lost the gleam after trying to hash it on his own, but Hux wouldn't take that excuse. He wouldn't take that what happened was the others made clear they were waiting for Ren to go, either, though that was even true. The stares and whispers had somehow made Hux leaving that much worse, like everyone could _see_ he was just half a person, drooping around awkward and pretending he was whole; no one questioned him on takes or marks, no one tried to argue his plans, even when he knew the ideas were impulsive and half-thought-out. But it wasn’t respect, they were only wary of him.

He tried to draw Phasma in once or twice, but she didn’t care for debate – would rather go behind his back to do it her way. All she’d ever openly disagreed with him about was trying to leave, always giving reasons for him not to go after Hux like he wanted, but that was likely only to help her own step forward. Smart, on her part, if infuriating enough he’d broken a wagon in about a thousand pieces at the realization, terrifying half the camp and letting her _kick_ him out.

But he can’t even bitch that she kept him off Hux’s trail for too long – it took barely three days before he found him and started a fight in a saloon… maybe, but he clearly got arrested for something. Fuck, he really can’t remember a thing. He apparently hadn't worked up to telling Hux that what happened was mostly  _him,_ but he's too sober right now to be that honest.

Hux clears his throat sharply, the sound nostalgic and irking in equal measures. “ _Ren_.”

“Didn’t work out,” Ren mutters, grabbing at Silon’s withers and jumping up, balancing awkward on his bare back.

Hux flips his reins over his knuckles in a tic. “You expect me to just accept that?”

Ren shrugs again, nudging Silon to the left to get closer to Fina, which he’s all too happy to do – a little too on the nose, to be sure. “Doesn’t really matter.”

“Where’s Millicent?” Hux asks, resignation in his voice, at the same moment he gooses Fina forward into a slow walk toward the end of town. “With Phasma?”

Ren feels his eyes go wide with belated panic, looking up and down the street as they go – he’s missing an entire _horse_. He peeks down to glare at the back of Silon’s head; what a shit father _he’s_ turned out to be.

“Did you _sell_ her?” Hux asks low, the fury in his tone practically poison in the air between them.

“No!” Ren snarls, feeling a hollow dig at the center of his chest. She is his, theirs really, and he was lucky to be using her as pack when Hux left the crew  _behind his back_ , or he’d probably have lost her, too.

“Where is she, then?” Hux snaps, gesturing wide, then pausing while the hand tightens into a white-knuckled fist. “If you got another of my horses pregnant – ”

“Once, that happened! And I got him gelded,” Ren says, gesturing underneath Silon and feeling a little dumb for it; the headache is throbbing worse now under the hot sun, making him forget himself. “Poor bastard.”

“It’s improved his temperament significantly,” Hux says primly, now turning Fina to face Ren, presumably to scowl better, and clearly not planning to go further before he’s got explanation on Millicent. “Should do the same to you.”

Ren rolls his eyes, opening his mouth only to feel the retort die on his tongue – he’s pretty sure Hux couldn’t give less of a fuck about the state of his virility right now. He ducks his head, hoping his pause isn’t noticed, and blessedly spies a stable hidden behind the lodging just down the street, hungover mind sparking with no little relief. “She’s still back at the stables. With my tack.”

“Ah,” Hux says, eyes pointedly sliding over Silon’s bare back to his bridleless nose. “I wasn’t sure if you’d just lost everything in a game. You seemed to be on a losing streak. Much like the rest of your life.”

“Fuck off,” Ren says, running a hand through his hair; he’s not quite become Han yet, though he can’t deny waking up after a drunk and disorderly isn’t putting him on the path. He taps at Silon’s flank with his boot, directing him left toward the stables. “Silon probably jumped the fence when he realized Fina was somewhere.”

He hears Millicent before even turning the alley to the stables, a high, sharp whinny that nearly puts Ren on the ground when Silon takes initiative into an uneven gallop. The scene is embarrassing more than worrisome, a pair of workers diving forward and trying to get Millicent to stay in the stable. She's likely been some trouble since Silon escaped, though apparently not managed it herself– not until now, rearing up and making both kids run from the big double doors.

“Bloody mustangs,” Hux sighs, reaching down to pat at Millicent’s seeking nose when she trots up, practically dancing for him while he strokes up her head; the amusement he’s trying to hide is obvious and somewhat devastating. “Yes, Millicent, I see you.”

“Train your fucking horses,” the stablehand snaps, throwing Ren’s saddle to the ground with a thwack. A pack follows a few seconds later, knocking heavy into his feet, with the woven burlap picking up dirt as it rolls along.

Ren heaves up his saddle from the ground, hurriedly tilting it back and forth to find thankfully little damage; an instant later, he grits his teeth when a bridle drops to the ground at his feet in a clatter of buckles. He really feels like throwing the saddle right back in the uppity bastard’s face and followed by his fist, but he doubts Hux’ll have the mercy to bail him out a second time.

He glances sideways to find Hux sliding off Fina, moving forward to conduct some manner of inspection on Millicent. He watches for a few seconds, a tight feeling in his chest when he sees that small pleased expression from before now grown into a near _grin_ ; Hux is happier to see Millicent than Ren has seen him about anything.

“Look at you, my dear,” Hux hums, dropping Millicent’s hoof, hand slipping all the way up as he leans in close to her, his hair almost blending into her coat. “They even varnished you up.”

“Wouldn’t buy her, sir,” the stablehand says, throwing the second of Ren’s bags to the ground. “She’s a handful.”

Ren bites his tongue for a half-second, then reaches out, curling his hand in the kid’s thin shirt and stopping him before he can get away. “ _Stop_ throwing my shit,” he snarls, shaking the stablehand hard, enjoying the developing fear in their eyes. “Unless you’re angling for a goddamn beating.”

“Handful is an understatement,” Hux adds, his voice dry, approaching with a pair of steps; oddly, he picks up Ren’s bag rather than moving to pull him off the kid.

“Sorry,” the stablehand squeaks, looking down to watch Hux, then back to Ren with an inward tuck of their shoulders. “I’ll be careful with the rest, sir.”

“Thanks,” Ren sneers, letting up his grip and watching the stablehand stumble back until they’re nearly on the ground. He forces himself to look away, taking a few steps toward Silon and forcing saddle down onto him before the fool horse can slip away.

“Here.” Hux’s eyes drop again just as he hands over the bag, mouth twisting to a frown in the same moment he turns back to Millicent.

Ren tries not to let that get to him – how much Hux clearly hates the locket. He probably didn’t explain well enough, being drunk, though personally he’s not sure what could be seen as so bad about it in any case. He reaches up to make sure it’s still under his shirt, lingering for a beat over the shape of it, then drops his hand; he’ll have to get the picture inside edited for the dumb-ass goatee. It's not even that it's unbecoming, really, but Ren mostly can’t stand that Hux looks like some industrialist dandy even just out of a drunk tank.

He finishes tacking up Silon while ignoring the stares from the stablehands, strapping his saber in, then turns to Millicent only to find Hux finishing with her pack saddle, if not the packs. He tries to nod some thanks only to get ignored for it, gritting his teeth while he straps on his effects – he knows Hux is pissed at him, almost chronically, but does he need to be such an asshole?

He ties the packs on and tests the hold with a yank, dodging as Millicent predictably reaches around to nip him while rolling the lead in his hand. He pauses with a wince at Silon’s side, pressing the heel of his other hand to his forehead and trying to ease a particularly bad throb, holding it cupped over his eyes and relieved at the few seconds of dark. He looks up when he hears hooves on his other side, and finds Hux already up in the saddle, wearing his hat and about ready to take off. He squares his shoulders and lifts his chin in response, wondering some what he’s done now in the space of five minutes.

Hux rolls his eyes with a low mutter, turning and messing with his other side, then suddenly there’s a _canteen_ shoved in Ren’s face. “You never take care of yourself, do you?”

Ren slowly finishes tying the lead onto Silon, wondering what this is about, then takes the water with a grunt of thanks. He doesn’t realize how thirsty he is until the sloshing weight is gone, staring down at the empty canteen with a slow smack of his lips and trying to chase the moisture. It’s the worst thing that could happen, too, because he’s still thirsty _and_ he’s drank all Hux’s water when he’s trying to get on his good side.

“Spring well is just there,” Hux says, shifting in his saddle with a heaving sigh and a creak of leather. He’s quiet for a pair of seconds, then sneers slightly, “Behind you.”

Ren looks backward with a start, finding a kid in a fading brown dress walking from an open well with a pail. The building just next to the scene is more troubling, whitewashed and well-kept. “For the needy?”

“Didn’t ask,” Hux says, because of course the godless bastard has been taking water from a _church._

Ren hesitates a bit longer before sighing heavy and walking over to Silon to unbuckle his own, sure enough, dry canteen from his saddle. Somehow, no one seems to notice him walking up the church path, and he’s back at Hux’s side with cold water and a guilty conscious before anyone in black has chance to come out and scold him.

“Thank you,” Hux says promptly, if wryly, and visibly smug at having pushed Ren into such a corner.

The eternity of Hell that Ren is bound to will be half Hux’s doing and for myriad reasons. He allows himself a snarl with bared teeth once Hux turns away to head down the road, continuing east at a lazy pace. He downs another gulp of water before following, climbing into the saddle and barely needing to prompt Silon in the right direction, and relieved when even Millicent forgoes her usual protests at being led to instead trot eagerly for her mother.

Hux isn’t quite so in favor as all the rest, judging by his sidelong glances, once then twice, before he pulls Fina up short to stop. “What are – ?” He cuts himself off and goes quiet for a spell of too intense staring, mouth pressing into a thin, pale line of frustration. “You _cannot_ bloody toddle behind me.”

“I can,” Ren disagrees, nudging Silon up a few more feet until he’s near even with Fina, and the road here is even wide enough they shouldn’t have to worry about anyone coming the direction getting bothered about it. “Don’t have anything else pressing.”

Hux continues to eye him for a long few seconds, then turns back toward the road without another word. The careless, twitching gesture forward that he offers with the reins makes it practically permission, though he might also be haranguing Ren in the privacy of his mind.

Ren follows down the hilly path, wondering some where Hux is going and listening to the uneven clatter of hooves on packed earth. He thinks Hux will let him have a do-over with the apology – it’ll just have to be at the right time, depending on him gauging when Hux has stopped being angry over whatever it is that happened between them. He winces as the back of his head throbs, as if noted, and wonders suddenly if the bruise could be from Hux, or if maybe he got glassed by someone else for saying something stupid.

He peeks over sideways, watching Hux for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “Do you know what hit me?”

Hux actually deigns to turn and look – the curious flicker of his lashes gold against the mid-afternoon sun.

“I can’t remember a damned thing, but I don’t know if it was the drink or this,” Ren admits, reaching up and touching at the goose egg on the back of his head, tender and bruised under his hair. “Probably both.”

“You were pistol whipped,” Hux says, looking forward with a likely roll of his eyes, obvious in the tilt of his head. “Because you resisted the deputy. I made the mistake of not leaving you there and they assumed I was party to you.”

“Damn,” Ren says, realizing with a scowl why that deputy had been so self-satisfied. “Been a long time since that happened.”

“Soft,” Hux remarks, and it’s even somewhat teasing, which is far too much a relief.

“Asshole,” Ren says, dropping his hand from the back of his head, finding himself tempted to reach out and shove at Hux’s shoulder, but instead wrapping it around his own thigh. “What happened, anyway?”

Hux is quiet for a few seconds, then clicks his tongue some while leading Fina down a fork in the road. “You made a drunken ass out of yourself.”

_“I told you to go,” Hux hisses, face twisting into that weasel-like sneer. “I’m not putting up with your drunken ass.”_

_“You wouldn’t put up with me s-sober,” Ren says, ignoring a pang that travels up along his sternum._

_Hux is quiet for a beat then takes a step forward, leaning in close and tapping at Ren’s sternum with a pair of fingers. “So? You’ve other people for that now, don’t you?”_

Ren barely manages not to lurch off Silon, closing his eyes a few seconds while his stomach settles. He could do without reliving how it was in his _gut_ at the time, though he also feels a little sick for the way he remembers Hux looking at him, annoyed and disgusted.

“Been a while since that happened, too,” he mutters, looking down the path and at the river far off in the distance. He rolls his lips together, biting down for a few seconds, then turns back to Hux. “What where you doing back in Talos?”

“Hustling,” Hux says, which is certainly as vague an answer as he could give.   

 “That all you been doing since you left?” Ren asks, slightly disbelieving – he’d expected Hux to join up with and be well on his way to leading another crew. “Riding around playing cards?”

Hux exhales a markedly loud sigh. “Yes.”

Ren feels an untimely tickle, torn between letting Hux be or irritating him that much more just for the satisfaction of it. “So you got nowhere to be?”

“ _No_.” Hux delivers the word firm and a flat, in a clear enough signal that he’s thinking about shooting if Ren won’t shut up.

Ren rolls his eyes and looks down to watch the rise and fall of Silon’s head, trying hard not to let his mind run on with thoughts that the caginess means Hux definitely has something on in the next town, maybe even with someone significant. They used to do that together, when they were younger and dumber, play a game where they acted like they wouldn’t see each other again, let alone in a day or two. It wouldn’t be too unlikely for Hux to have found someone who would play tag.

He opens his mouth to ask, only for something inside him to choke before he can get a word out. It should hurt less than it does, knowing he did it to himself. He used to care a lot about making his own choices, cutting himself out of the crowds – then he realized too late a lot of what he did was with Hux right there, too.

Ren jerks forward when Silon stops suddenly, hooves loudly shuffling against rock and packed dirt. The road has washed out some, and he looks over to see Hux already guiding Fina through the narrow path of grass and earth at the side.

The wash is filled with tepid water, sickly looking and visibly settled by mosquitoes, so he forgets any attempt he might take to wade through a few wagons seem to have clearly done. It takes some finagling to force Silon to the narrow patch, and he lets out the lead some for Fina behind him. The gap isn’t too wide, thankfully, and a trip probably wouldn’t kill the horses or him, but he’d rather get through it without all his earthly possessions being thrown to sickly water by a bolting mustang.

“Careful with her.”

“I am,” Ren snaps, biting his cheek before he can ask if it would kill Hux to unwind for about half a damned second. “Christ.”

It’s the last thing said for what feels like eternity.

Hux eventually forks at another, less treaded path, down to a riverside and walking along it for miles, until he abruptly turns Fina to a stop while dropping off her back. He leads her by bridle to a cropping of trees surrounding a sheer wash, taking off his hat to hang on a branch and uncinching her saddle before digging in packs like he’s about to stay.

Ren peeks forward along the road, confirming the sun has only just started dipping below the mountain, so there’ll be light for a few hours yet to ride on. It doesn’t even get cold this time of year, and it’s late enough that they’re unlikely to get surprised with a storm... and Hux always rides until dark if the weather’s good, even if it gets them nowhere – what’s he doing?

It doesn't look like he's got a setup out here, other than clearly knowing where it was, but he's not digging under rock for loot or revealing a shelter dug into the hillside. He just stopped for camp. Before it's even twilight. 

Ren rolls his lips together, hesitating longer before following Hux with his own uncertain jump from Silon, though he doesn’t walk him off the trail. He finds himself biting into his thumb before he realizes it, and forces it back down to his side before it might be noticed.

Too late, though: Hux is staring steadily at him, pulling a rolled cigarette from his case.

Ren didn’t know exactly what would happen when he saw Hux again, but this certainly wasn’t it. He thought it would take more time, and that he might have gotten something together to offer him – be it money or property. He definitely knew there’d be a fight, probably multiple, and maybe some kowtowing, but here in the moment… It only feels like he’s intruding on something, even though they’re all alone. Hux won’t even _talk_ to him. The melancholy has had well enough time to creep up again, and now all ideas of trying to make up for last night seem no more than futile.

He looks down the road again, at light cast through shifting trees. He bound himself into this loneliness with barbed wire, may as well do the opposite of what Hux expects from him before it gets any worse. It might help if he ever sees Hux again, let alone how it’ll save face when he turns the next bend and starts pressing tears into Silon’s neck.

“I, uh,” Ren takes a breath, settling himself before he turns around, grabbing the cinch that holds Millicent to Silon; he pulls it free with a shaky yank. “I’m going to keep going.”

“Ah,” Hux intones, with little inflection one way or the another.

“You can keep Millicent, though,” Ren says, tugging on her lead and turning around, forcing his voice to keep flat. He walks her over to where Fina is grazing yards away, knowing she’ll stay there after he starts to move. “Everyone knows she’s your favorite, probably even Fina.”

Hux doesn’t answer for a beat, then comes the sound of a lighting match. “Alright.”

Ren hopes his wavering breath is at least quiet, as he starts pulling his bags off Millicent. He didn’t really need her, but hell if he was going to leave her with Phasma and the goons; Millicent should be with one of them. She’ll like it this way better, too – the favoritism was certainly requited.

He turns around, throwing one bag over his shoulder, keeping the other at his side, and forces himself to look at Hux. He still can’t believe he found him so quick, practically stumbled into him. He wishes more now he could remember what he said when he first saw him, though he knows it was probably humiliating considering what he remembers of just after.

Hux turns away, shoving the smoldering cigarette between his lips and speaking around it. “Anything else?”

Ren feels something inward flinch at the dismissal, then realizes with a similar start that he does have something, looking down at his pack. He drops it and starts undoing straps, a wrench beneath his sternum getting tighter and tighter with every unfolded layer. He finally finds what he wants with a swallow, pulling it out and rolling the moose paddle in his hand; it’s small, the bull that dropped it likely no older than a couple years.

“An antler?” Hux asks, taking a pair of steps closer, pulling the cigarette from his mouth with a thankful sideways exhale.

“Yeah,” Ren says, forcing himself to stand and better hold it out; the habitual urge to reach out and crush the rollie is stronger than he remembers. “It’s more yours than mine.”

Hux keeps still for a few seconds, then reaches out, taking the antler with a tug and an odd frown at his mouth. “…Mine?”

Ren shrugs tightly, already wishing he’d kept it. He had looked two days for perfect one, thinking about how it might make up for what he said, and what he’d ask Hux to engrave into the bone. He had decided on an ermine, sitting up on its paws while looking smart and mischievous. He’d been so stupid, thinking that would be any sort of meaningful, though he didn’t realize that until right now.

“You’ve just been carrying this around?”

Ren shrugs, taking a breath and finding it raspy, “A while.”

“How long?” Hux asks, unceremoniously dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his boot.

Ren looks away from the weak plume of smoke, glancing up and back toward Silon like he’s got somewhere to go. He’s pretty sure he couldn’t get his feet to move.

“Ren.”

“Since you left,” Ren admits, speaking with difficulty through a spasm at the back of his throat. He chews momentarily at the inside of his cheek, but he has to finish – he’ll likely never get another chance. “I went to go find it. To apologize. But you were gone by time I got back.”

Hux goes worryingly still, barely even breathing for painfully long seconds, then suddenly takes that last step forward and grabs Ren hard at the front, pulling him in by the jacket lapels with both hands. He moves so quick and with such force that Ren can’t help but stumble into him, hunching into the strong, wiry hands that wrap around him; one cradling his head, the other along his spine, and he hasn’t been held in _so_ long.

“You stupid man,” Hux says, his voice now low and hoarse, “You stupid, intolerable man.”

Ren drops his head, inhaling the familiar smell of horse and pine soap and _sweat_ from Hux’s vest. He closes his eyes, swallowing thick before his mouth opens, a question he doesn’t want to ask tumbling out in a mumble. “Is that why you left?”

“No,” Hux says harshly, mouth right at Ren’s ear and hands tightening, more comforting than painful, though doesn’t do much for how the denial seems to ring false. “It wasn’t… It was a lot of things, Ren, but that wasn’t one of them.”

Ren forces himself to lean away, taking a half-step backward, though he still can’t quite look Hux in the face.

Hux is mostly quiet while his hands drop, though his breath gets harsh. A hand tightens at his side, into a fist that invites Ren to focus on the shifting of white knuckles. “I don’t know if you ever _noticed_ , but the gang only listened to me if you were standing there,” he offers a scoff then that is halfway to a choke – a tight, bitter noise without any humor. “I couldn’t get anything done like that, especially after someone started going over my head bolloxing up the finances and ledgers, Peavey probably, and then Lira was… slowly getting her way. Not to mention you started _telling_ me to leave whenever I disagreed with you – what was I meant to do? Put up with it?”

Ren glances up, warily catching Hux’s eyes and trying to stow the thing about the ledger at the back of his mind. He should probably find some way to tell Phasma about that, but more pressing, something he’s been meaning to say for nearly six months. “I didn’t ever mean it. I - I _never_ wanted you to go.”

Hux openly sneers, eyes dropping oddly before looking back to Ren’s face.

Ren feels his mind snag at the movement in a different manner than before, sensing he’s close to realizing something obvious – something he hadn’t wanted to think on starting to itch at the back of his mind.

_“What is **that**?” Hux says, glassy eyes darting below Ren’s chin and going wide._

_Ren looks down, drunkenly palming his own bare chest – he can’t see anything worth panicking over, just the locket and old scars._

_Hux abruptly shoves Ren into the door, thin fingers digging in bruises. “Get out.”_

“What do you mean about Lira?” Ren asks quietly, the flicker of memory damning, but… he’s hesitant to even believe it. He had to have shown Hux the locket after that – he must have; he’s been thinking about how Hux would react since he had it painted.

“A blind man could see the way she acted around you,” Hux says, shifting just a bit further away and jaw clenching in a particularly severe manner. “The way you two got on.”

“So?” Ren says, because he just can’t understand it – the thought of Hux ever feeling that jealous almost inconceivable. Ren might lead people on for one reason or another, but not far enough along that it could _ever_ get between them, and nothing that Hux wouldn’t do himself. He’d entertained her more than the others, maybe, but –

“She was in our tent,” Hux snaps, voice interrupting Ren’s thoughts with a broken, seething vehemence that Ren realizes he’s never heard before, the tone of it sinking deep under his skin. “All the time. She practically wrapped herself around you, always trying to touch you, squeezing in to sit next to you or ride with you.” The words abruptly stumble and crack, and Hux’s expression follows with a furrow of his brow and a tight bite at his lips. “It was only a matter of time. I needed gone before that. Or I… I’d kill her.”

“Hux, _no_ ,” Ren says, hearing his voice get high and tight, reaching out and grabbing Hux before he can take another step back, holding onto his sleeve. He wants to pull him in, but doesn’t feel much like getting stabbed, so here they stand awkward. “Nothing would ever – _could_ ever  – ”

“Do you think me a moron!?” Hux interrupts with a snarl, his free hand quick and determined when he grabs the locket at Ren’s neck to pull it up by the chain. The loose clasp pops open at the barest of pressure, and a wash of confusion into shock passes his face before he’s dropping the locket like it burns, letting it fall back heavy against Ren’s chest – he’s definitely not seen it. “Who is – is that me?”

Ren lets go of Hux to reach up and close it gently, blinking quick to clear the sudden burn in his eyes. It seems he’d done nothing but make it all worse last night. “It was. Before you grew that stupid beard.”

Hux has gone from angry to practically shaking in quick time, mouth opening and closing with visible shock. He stumbles back, breaking away from Ren to wind both hands into his hair, hunching into himself with ragged breaths.

“I was using her,” Ren mutters, trying to close the space again with a pair of steps forward, “She had good ears and always knew what was going on. In camp or town, or… wherever. I – I didn’t even think you would notice.”

“How wouldn’t I?” Hux says, barely peeking through his fingers, though his tone resonates with what can only be called sorrow. “She was doing all the little things I couldn’t anymore, wasn’t she?” He gives an awful, broken laugh, hands dropping from his face to reveal a pair of shockingly damp eyes, a sight not yet seen despite all they’ve been through. “Not after we took over, trying to make those people… fear us. Respect us. We couldn’t have whispers anymore, not like that.”

Ren swallows tightly, glancing to the ground for a quick second, and hoping some for a convenient snake. “Everyone knew.”

“Clearly, they didn’t,” Hux says, back straightening in some grasp at pride, yet his shoulders crowd even smaller around his head.

Ren doesn’t know what to say, not anymore, and his head is spinning with a different sort of ruin. He knew they’d fight, but not about this… This isn’t a fight, it’s agony. “We… We were in the same tent.”

“But not the same bed!” Hux shouts back, voice likely loud enough to reach Chandrila, for all its hoarse and cracking. “Not for years, not since we hitched with Snoke. Only a matter of time until someone saw that as opportunity and you took them up on it.”

“That is not even…” Ren exhales hard, debating on actually defending himself, defending _Lira_ , who was a bit sweet on him but hardly the slattern Hux is cursing, then realizes time has long past. He let the damage be done, relatively, yet it still led them right back here together. The real heart of the matter is - it must just be Hux’s devil mind. “I _really_ wish you would stop overthinking shit and blowing it up.”

“You’re an asshole,” Hux says, tone still piercing, breath still too fast, but the red lingering around his eyes is worse than both. “Inconsiderate and no more brain than a _turkey_. You didn't have to let her all over you.”

“I - I _know,_ ” Ren snarls, wishing he could feel any sort righteous in his anger and hearing his voice shakier then he’d like from that uncertainty; he'd done something far worse than he ever thought. But he - Hux never said a thing about it until now, had he? “But you should have said something. Hell, you could’ve written a goddamn letter – but god forbid you act like you got feelings more than sex and smugness.”

“I waited near a week in the next town!” Hux says, his voice actually breaking while his expression wavers into a pained sneer. “You never even tried – after _how_ many times I’ve gone after you?”

“I was trying to…” Ren swallows hard, feeling his hands shakily ball up into fists with an urgency to tear something up. It’s different _knowing_ that Hux waited, just like when they first hooked up, and thinks he chose not to come – worse still, if Ren had gone for the locket portrait just a few days sooner… “The crew needed me.”

Hux rolls his lips between his teeth, offering a stilted nod that seems just an excuse to drop his head. “Right.”

Ren feels something finally give, the burning behind his eyes and the tightness in his throat culminating in a croak of a scream. He covers his face before more can escape, digging his fingernails into skin and hoping the new pain can distract him. He’s suffered so many months wanting for them to be back to normal – of wanting to hear Hux breath in sleep, wanting to ride next to him going nowhere, wanting to watch him fiddle with bone until it’s art. He just wants Hux _back_. He doesn’t even care if Hux ignores him the entire time, if he hates him forever, if only Ren knows he’s there.

“Hey!” Hux says, his thin fingers wrapping tight around Ren’s arms and jerking back, pulling the nails from his face. “Stop – _stop it_.”

“Everyone kept whispering to each other that they saw it coming, I was treating you so bad,” Ren rasps, trying hard not to break down further, feeling everything in the world narrow to the warming palms around his wrists. “How much you hated me. I didn't know it was because of this.”

Hux tightens his hands, fingertips digging painfully into Ren’s tendons. “I tried to hate you,” he says, and somehow the words don’t sound anything like mean, only sorrow. “Not just for Lira. Every time you told me you didn’t want me there unless I let you get your way; how I was always trying to control you; how I was stifling the whole enterprise. You were getting drunk off power, Organa. And you have _never_ been able to hold your liquor.”

“I shouldn’t have done any of it. Not once, not ever,” Ren says, hunching forward and dropping his forehead to Hux’s narrow shoulder, “I was an asshole. I’m sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

A single hand releases to slip over Ren’s ear, soft at first, sweeping up and down his scalp, then suddenly tugging at his hair. “Could you repeat that?”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Ren says, only slightly more sarcastic and feeling heat bolt up under his skin. He shifts his head, nosing against the knuckles of Hux’s remaining hand with an urgency to turn that embarrassment back around. “You’re my far-flung spark, Armie Hux. I'll love you 'til I'm hung.”

“Good lord,” Hux scoffs wetly, letting go of Ren by practically throwing his arms back, a twisting, self-conscious manner of smile across his face. “Get that tack off your horse.”

Ren looses a whine from the back of his throat, trying to grab Hux back. “You’re not going to do it for me?”

Hux shakes his head, “ _Ren_.”

Ren watches Hux unpack for a few seconds, clever fingers undoing twine and unwrapping tentpoles from neatly folded canvas. He turns away, scrubbing his face of drying tears before they can worsen the lingering tickle of anxiety, and is startled to find only empty space behind him. He looks down the road, then the other end, panicking some while peering out across the river, until sense finally filters in and he turns on his heel to glare at where Silon has wondered over to graze by the other horses.

He shrugs off his jacket with a mutter for Silon how he’s being spoiled, then starts in on removing his tack and tying him off to a tree, praying silently that it won’t be loose in the morning. It’s happened before, having to walk around like a jackass yelling for his horse, but at least they’re tucked in down here by the river. He looks to Millicent next, readying for a fight, only to already find her wearing a sulky look and testing her boundaries against another branch.

Hux seems to think his part’s done for that, tent oh-so-precisely raised and now peevishly tidying little bits of nothing. He’s not got everything set though, not even close, and it drives Ren to kneel down and start pulling out the ties of Hux’s still-furled bedroll, ignoring his own for a hunch of what might be folded inside.

He feels relief like he hadn’t expected when he finds the wolf blanket rolled up inside, suddenly unconcerned with the cot as he brings the blanket up to press into his face. He breaths in the familiar smell for a few seconds while his expression stretches into a grin, looking up only to find Hux watching with a furrowed brow.

He lets Hux stare a bit longer before he kicks out, prompting the bedroll to unfurl further before he throws the blanket on top. It almost looks like a proper bed, if squinting and looking sideways.

Hux shakes his head, coiling a length of twine in his hand. He hums while he takes a step forward, then another, and another, slowly pushing Ren against a tree. “You’re not a subtle man.”

“I don’t try to be,” Ren says, dragging his teeth across his lower lip and pleased beyond measure when Hux glances down at the movement.  

Hux tilts his head in a nod, glancing down while knotting off the twine. He stares at it for a beat, as if in thought, then tuts and drops it just at their sides, taking another step that has him pressed solid into Ren’s front. "Do you really think I've forgiven you already?"

Ren forces himself to shrug, more with hope than anything else, and repeats himself. "I'm sorry." 

"I will admit," Hux says, offering a put-upon sigh, "That I... I do find it far easier to forgive you just being an asshole." He goes quiet another beat, eyes steady on Ren for a length, then lifts his chin with a snide expression. "But if we fuck right now, know I'm only using your body."

Ren barely manages to bite back a renewed grin; he can remember well enough that Hux said same on the night they hooked up together for good years ago. "I'll take it."

 

“Good,” Hux says, and suddenly his mouth presses to Ren’s own, firm and intimate, one hand pulling tight on a suspender.

Ren tilts his head, reaching up to hold on at Hux’s nape and opening his mouth to seek for his tongue in a deeper kiss. He wants close as he can get, to pull him in and in until they’re fused tooth to toe, and truly part of each other. 

Hux responds warm and aggressive, biting down while his other hand grips tight around Ren’s hips. He tugs hard at the suspender, dragging it down from Ren’s shoulder with a low hum into his mouth; the other comes down with a particularly sharp nip of teeth, and a sound that might be a laugh in any other man chasing just behind.

“ _Missed you,” Hux murmurs, his breath hot against Ren’s ear._

Ren takes a sharp breath, opening his eyes as he pulls away, and catches a curiosity in Hux’s expression that makes him feel hollow. He realizes what he heard must have been an echo, as occupied as Hux’s mouth had been, and that has him pulling Hux back in, dragging him down with a grunt onto the wolf blanket.

It doesn’t quite go as planned, since instead of divesting Hux of clothes, his hands only seem to want to wrap around Hux’s slim form and hold on tight. He feels his breath getting unsteady again, and hates that his fucked head is, for once, taking precedent over his dick.

“What are you doing?” Hux asks after a few moments, elbows digging into Ren’s shoulders and hands hesitantly folding over his head. “Ren?”

Ren presses his face harder into the buttons of Hux’s shirt, clearing his throat, but he still can’t quite bring himself to answer.

Hux tuts something equally vague, fingers trailing down Ren’s scalp with a noticeable touch over the bruise.

“I just missed you,” Ren manages, in case he never said it back – he probably didn’t, since it seems nothing had gone right.

“Look at me,” Hux draws himself back, forcing Ren to look up with a shove at his shoulders and a rough grab at his chin. His mouth is set solidly, eyes so intent that they almost refuse to let Ren look anywhere else. “Are we having pity party?”

Ren flattens his lips, hearing a taunting in Hux’s voice that should annoy him more than it does. “No.”

Hux rolls his eyes, trailing his hand down Ren’s shoulder and pressing it to his sternum, pushing until he’s flat on the cot. He stays there for a few seconds just peering downward, tilting his head like Ren is prey to his predator. “Would you like to lay here while I make coffee and wait for you to get better?”

“Not really,” Ren says, suddenly far more mindful that Hux is sitting in his _lap,_ on top of him and practically grinding down while shifting into a more comfortable position. He drops his hands and palms along Hux’s long thighs to his knees, squeezing into the bone with his fingers and thumb.

Hux hums low, already gradually sliding buttons apart at Ren’s front. “You certain?”

Ren answers by sliding one of his hands back up, tracking his thumb just along the seam of Hux’s fly and tracing the shape of the cock underneath. He can feel his own dick gradually filling out with every moment longer, stroking Hux and squirming some himself while cool fingers start to grope at his chest.

“Do you wear it all the time?” Hux asks quietly, tracing out the shape of where the locket has settled just under Ren’s left nipple.

“Course,” Ren mutters, glancing up to catch Hux’s face, finding him thoughtful and just slightly flushed.

Hux drags his hand down further, fingers leaving behind little sparks to settle at Ren’s waistband. He pushes Ren’s hand to his hip with the tiniest grumble, stretching out long and lean while he undoes his own shirt with a scolding look downward, soon pulling it and his undershirt straight over his head in rare show of impatience.

Ren reaches out to feel the shift of muscle under soft skin, toying again at Hux’s fly until he manages to pop the button with his thumb. He barely gets a touch of the flesh underneath before Hux grabs his hand in a firmer grip, pushing it away from the peeking shape of his cock.

“Stop it,” Hux says snippily, shifting backward and cruelly palming at Ren’s crotch before standing up to shove at his trousers.

“Excited?” Ren counters, bucking upward while shimmying out of his own, taking himself in hand and feeling a grin at his mouth at the noticeable drop of Hux’s eyes – he’s relieved some that Hux could still want to touch him, _ogle_ him, and in the open daylight no less.

It’s little compared for how good Hux looks, standing there near-naked, flushed a pretty pink all up his chest and with his cock hard and curving up to his belly. He starts stroking himself, as if in response to Ren, but slower and more like he’s teasing them both.

Ren forgets himself and reaches out with a whine, quickly tiring of the show, and grabs at both of Hux’s legs to urge him down back to his lap. He catches Hux in a kiss the very moment he’s able, pulling him in and gasping into his mouth when a calloused hand wastes no time replacing the grip around his dick.

He thrusts upward into the shifting grasp of fingers, slightly rough for the lack of oil, but that’s negligible to the feeling of a smaller hand, undeniably Hux, working him off after so many months. He reaches down blindly, finding Hux leaking with a smear against his thumb, squeezing and stroking, then groans when Hux presses in that much closer, other arm wrapping around Ren’s shoulders while they rut against each other.

“Should’ve thrown you in the river,” Hux mutters as he pulls back, bearing snooty turn at his mouth that is too exaggerated be completely believed; a hand slips through Ren’s hair, pulling it back with a sweep from his head. “Absolutely rank.”

“You’re no better,” Ren says, nosing up along Hux’s neck with the flat of his tongue just behind, tasting salt and dirt; he huffs some at the resultant protest and drops back flat on the cot, bucking upward just slightly into an unfortunately loosened grip.

Hux eyes him briefly, pupils blown and tongue peeking through his lips when he wets them, but soon he’s shifting downward to flatten his body over Ren’s with a slide of his hard cock up against the length of Ren’s dick. His following hum is the most incredible noise, pleased and arrogant, soon followed by teeth just near Ren’s ear when he starts to move more determinedly, his pace immediately quick and impatient.  

“Fuck,” Ren says, reaching out to squeeze at the perfect swell of Hux’s ass and hold him down while he thrusts up hard, catching a brief kiss and nearly choking on a gasp when a narrow thigh slips and Hux digs in closer.

“Just like that,” Hux says, one hand squeezing at Ren’s nape while the other goes between them, loosely wrapping around both their dicks for a few uneven strokes.

Ren groans at the sky, exposing his neck against the next onslaught of sharp teeth and chapped lips, paired strangely but not unwelcomingly by the roughness of coarse beard. The air is a slowly chilling with the setting sun, worsening his state and making every inch of hair stick up across overheated skin. He clumsily resets his hands on sweat-slick skin and rolls his hips in uneven thrusts, feeling already on the edge as he desperately seeks pressure with a moan against every breath.

“You are a picture,” Hux says, leaving Ren’s neck to whisper soft against his lips. “Such a strong man, moaning underneath me like a jezebel.”

“And you a devil,” Ren manages to rasp, looking down through the narrow space between them as Hux’s hand shifts to tighten around only him, feeling his orgasm coming on as a heady rush that strengthens with every pull. He drives up with a choke as the feeling peaks, arching off the fur and watching his come spurt over the purpling, neglected head of Hux’s pretty cock.

He slows his hips against the creeping tenderness, reaching down and returning the favor by taking Hux’s cock in hand. He listens to Hux’s breath shorten, hearing murmurs at the end of his tongue like verses as he moves in quick, even thrusts, and presses his forehead into Hux’s cheek. It only takes a few seconds more, and he thinks, not for the first time, it the most erotic sight when Hux grunts a quiet curse and his cock jerks, his spend combining to worsen the mess between them.

He protests with a groan and tries to reach out when Hux rolls off him far, far too soon, standing and wiping off his belly with Ren’s own shirt. He’s still breathing hard, and couldn’t he have lain here for just a few seconds, let Ren feel his heart beat slow under his hand?

 “Don’t you dare cover my blanket in come,” Hux says, throwing the shirt at him before Ren can turn over onto his front, “Clean yourself off.”

“It’s _ours_ ,” Ren mutters, tempted to roll over anyway, but he’s wary Hux might decide to do good on his earlier threat to throw him in the water. He sluggishly wipes at his front, smearing away the sticky remains onto one of his few shirts until it’s mostly gone if for the smell – speaking of things in need of washing.

He glances up when a pair of feet step just next to him, finding Hux standing there bearing another, thinner blanket in hand. A tense moment passes, and Ren hastily stands, disappointed to find his headache resurfacing at the quick movement, and stumbles over to unfurl his own cot – a single is barely big enough for Hux and _his_ shoulders, let alone the both of them.

He throws the bedroll out just as Hux slips under the wolf pelt, hurriedly following with a slump; it’s too early to really sleep, but he’s wouldn’t mention that right now if a gun were to his head. He can’t remember the last time they just laid together, and he stretches out half on his cot, but mostly onto Hux, curling in small as he can into his side.

Hux offers a low murmur, his opposite hand sweeping Ren’s shoulder to his scalp. It takes a few moments to realize he’s checking the goose-egg.

“Stop,” Ren grunts, when the prodding fingers turn a little painful.

 “Trying to see if he really did crack your skull,” Hux says, though his voice is slightly too dry to be entirely honest. “Since you’re claiming to have _amnesia_.”

“I remember some,” Ren says, digging his nose into bony collarbone and the inhaling, trying to make a point of remembering this rather than whatever he fucked up last night. “Drinking too much when I couldn’t talk to you. Thought I showed you the locket right off, but… Guess I didn’t.”

Hux is quiet for seconds, stretching into what must be nearly a minute, arms going loose, then tightening again, before he grumbles a telltale acquiescence. “It wasn’t all that exciting. You sat yourself at my table, so I took all your money in a game and let you get me alone,” he pauses, exhaling heavily, and his next words are stilted, as if pulled from him. “Then I saw the locket – you acted like it was nothing – we fought and got kicked out. You persisted in… being difficult and _loud_ , which is when the deputy got involved.”

“But didn’t I say anything about – “ Ren rolls his lips tight together between his teeth, “About how I was looking for you?”

Hux sweeps a hand through Ren’s hair, scratching distractingly at the base of his scalp. “You said a lot. But nothing like that.”

“I _was_ ,” Ren says, reaching up and grabbing Hux’s hand, pulling it until he can press a kiss to the inside of a bony wrist. He feels heat in his _own_ cheeks for the boldness, but it doesn’t matter if it might better convince Hux that he’s it for him, and that he’s so fucking sorry. “I would’ve searched sea to sea for you. I just didn’t… have to.”

The silence settles heavy, though somehow not unpleasantly, as shadows stretch from the trees and night quickly approaches in twilight sky. They’ll need to start a fire soon enough, and probably turn to the river for something to eat; all the more opportunity to settle back into each other’s skin.

“When did you get it?” Hux asks quietly, taking the locket and flipping it open, turning it between nimble fingers for a beat before shutting it back closed.

“Not long after. Phasma, she… suggested it to me. Thought having it would help me stick around,” Ren admits, wondering if he’ll be sore about that until his last day. He can barely think about the conversation now without wanting to scream, even sure enough she hadn’t proposed it meanly, but he’s seething all the same. “It did, I _guess_. Kept me there until everyone was looking to take orders from her ‘cause they thought I was nuts.”

Hux tuts and goes quiet for a few seconds, then moves, pulling away from Ren and leaving him cold.

Ren allows himself a pitchy noise emerge from his own throat, turning to look and finding Hux rummaging around in his fallen clothing. He reaches out, trying to pull him back with a grumble, “ _Hux_.”

“Quiet,” Hux mutters, returning to his place with a hard squeeze at Ren’s ribs, other hand shoving out in front of them. He’s holding his watch.

Ren blinks, flinching when it pops open, and only becomes further confused when he sees _himself_ pasted opposite to the clock. It’s an old, _old_ photo, his shorter hair blending some to the background and exposing worse his ears, face bearing the slightly wary expression he managed to hold while unsure of the camera. “Fuck,” he breathes, reaching up and touching the edge. “I wondered where that went.”

Hux hums vaguely, flicking a little slip of a cover back in place and turning the picture entirely opaque, as if little more than a worn stain. “Trick seal.”

Ren turns his head and digs his nose again into Hux’s chest, peeking up to catch his eyes. “Sentimental bastard.”

**Author's Note:**

> A bit more backstory here, including the locket and the horses, since I got distracted multiple times [in making little stories for bits referenced in the story.](https://twitter.com/ezlebe/status/1071962144567058433?s=20)
> 
> I can also be found on the [twitters](https://twitter.com/ezlebe?lang=en) at Ezlebe. (Obviously, lol.)


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